Emails are a kind of minefield.  Every email is dated and when I comb my deleted and archived email looking for evidence of this or that, I have to look at the dates.  June 2017 (graduation), July 2017 (getting ready for college), Aug 15 (the last day I would talk to her), Aug 16 (the day), Sept 1 (my first day back to work),

My mind separates everything dated into two buckets.

When I had her.  When I didn’t.

When we were a whole family.  When we fractured.

Every email I have to search comes at me and I immediately examine my memories.  What were we doing that day?  Where was she?  Was she happy that day?

I remember earlier in the summer I was reviewing my life and, taken in 5 year chunks, my adult life has had some pretty wild course changes and it’s always crazy to me where I ended up.  I’ve really never been on a steady course that would end neatly the way I intend.

I would occasionally look back with some regret (?) here and there, wishing the events in my life would have lead me down a less rocky path.  I would wish for an ease that never quite made it into my life.

And here we are.  Down a path I never saw coming and certainly didn’t work into the plan.

When my husband passed, we saw it coming.  I prepared, I planned, I moved into his death head-on.  I was ready for that.  I knew it was a gut-punch coming, but I managed.  I cried a lot and second guessed my choices without him, but bully for me.

Right after he passed, I moved my small family across the state to a new job, new town, new start.  I was able to make my date buckets into Before and After the move.  It was a protection.  It was a literal move. I didn’t have to refer back to anything that wasn’t on my terms.

This time, my life has a pinpoint.  A line of demarcation. 

Everything now is AD.


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